The Definition of Insanity
by Verbrevity
Summary: A lush green paradise seemed to extend below him forever... and then he was falling down, down, down through the blue abyss towards the inevitable. (A/N: set in the Far Cry 3 universe).
1. i've seen the world

_~'~_

_Will you still love me when I'm no longer young and beautiful?_

_Will you still love me when I got nothing but my aching soul?_

_Will you still love me when I'm no longer beautiful...?_

_~'~_

It was the highest he'd ever been, looking upon something few had seen.

A lush green paradise which seemed to extend below him forever and for a second the thought flittered through his mind: this is what God must feel like.

And then he was falling down, down, down through the blue abyss towards the inevitable.

~'~


	2. diamonds, brilliant and bel-air now

~'~

It's a pulsating mess of sweat and cigarettes. The lights beam down in sporadic flashes, heightening the trip for those who have taken it and creating a surrealistic world for those still sober enough to hold themselves back. He wanders through the crowd on sailors legs, his world tipping with every successive step. Finally he surrenders to the swirling mess and leans himself against a nearby wall, turning his gaze upon the dance floor of many colours. In the middle, among the loudest noise and clamour swings a blondes long hair. Suddenly a flash of a cheshire like smile and electric blue eyes turn his way, as if she could feel his gaze on her.

"Are you okay?" a tentative hand is placed upon his arm. Quickly he extricates it, windmilling wildly, barely clinging to the walls support.

"Fine," he snaps, turning to squint at the sight of a paler blonde in pink before him, having wandered over on steps of concern.

"Sorry I asked..." there's no venom behind it, he doesn't think she has any.

"Don't worry, you can still go report to the Queen Bitch that I'm pining after her like a good little lapdog," he murmurs, aware his words are too heavy as he turns his gaze back to the writhing sorceress.

"I'm not Lilly's spy."

"Could have fooled me," he snorts ungracefully, his fingers twitching for another drink.

"What you did was wrong," her voice is one of the righteous, but it doesn't lack some pity. "Lilly is my friend, what else was I supposed to do?"

"Be my friend too!" he turns on her now, a dramatic sweep of his arm, looking down at her with bitter sanctimonious hurt.

''I am your friend," ah, hurt, like sweet balm upon her lips. "But I couldn't just stand idly by and let- Let you do that to Lilly."

"Let me-" he's lost for words, a boiling pot of words. "What about when you stood idly by while she screwed El Paso all those months before?!"

She reels back from him ever so slightly, his undulating anger exposed for once to her. But faster than he imagined she'd composed herself once more.

"What are you-?"

"You know this whole virginal innocent act is getting kind of old," he's a spitting viper, venom spewing from his tongue.

"And this ass hole act is getting kid of tired," it leaves her lips before she can think, he can tell by the way she blinks she is startled by her own words. But then she turns, to leave him in a puff of disgruntled air. He lets her go in stunned silence, his nausea coming back with a vengeance.

~'~


	3. done it all

_~'~_

_"Logan, you're bleeding! What happened?!"_

_"I didn't mean to break it Mom, I didn't mean to, it was an accident! I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I screwed up!"_

_"Oh Logan…"_

"Logan!"

The persistent hiss penetrated his consciousness, pulling him away from the swirling memories of broken glass and blood. He struggled against the thick gelatine substance inside his mind, desperately trying to claw his way up to the surface. Finally, with an effort, he managed to break through, lifting his heavy concrete lids with Herculian effort.

For a second, only a second, he was in blissful ignorance as his mind tried to piece together a green branch here, bamboo sticks there and the unpleasant smell which seemed to fill his nose, enter his lungs and sit there.

"Logan!"

Lilly of course, she could never let him surrender to the throbbing mess of his hangover, always willing to be the centre of his universes but denying him any type of gravity.

He attempted to mutter some type of dismissal, perhaps an obscenity, but his tongue seemed too difficult to manoeuvre, his head sending out a pulsating throb which filed his vision with bright pinpricks of light.

"Logan please!"

It's that one word, the one he had never heard leave her lips no matter her transgressions or his pleas or even that one time…

He blinks, truly willing himself to be present and his eyes finally focus on her, tethered in front of him to some kind of thick bamboo structure which surrounded both of them, a make shift cage. His head throbs painfully again, he feels a sluggish trickle of something, due to his slight movement. Blood.

"Lilly?"

"Yes!" she laughs, relief and unspoken fear contained within that choked sound.

"What-?" he leaves the unformed sentence hanging in the air as he attempts to move his arms to wipe away the blood making it's slow deliberate way to obscure his vision. His arms won't move, wrists tethered above his head by rope which won't surrender an inch, pushing against his attempts roughly.

She opens her mouth, the spark in her deep blue eyes either prophesising an admonishment or sarcasm, but she does not have the chance to administer it.

"Well, well, looks like the lazy white boy finally woke up!"

The voice is brash, confident, an accent tinges it, one Logan can't place, not that he's ever been an expert. He turns his eyes, almost involuntarily, not noticing the way Lilly immediately becomes limp, like a rag doll. A man stands, just outside the cage, illuminated by flickering torch light. Immediately Logan's eyes are drawn to the pistol he holds casually in his tattooed hand, the silver metal dull but no less deadly.

"You like my friend do you huh?" voice like velvet, but he doesn't hear the words, mesmerised. "LOOK AT ME WHEN I'M TALKING TO YOU!" the sudden outburst makes his body involuntarily betray him, his eyes immediately snapping to the man's face. He's tanned, like the other island dwellers they'd come across. His hair is black, shorn close to his head except for a type of Mohawk. His mouth twitches into a satisfied sneer. His dark eyes are outlined with heavy charcoal, they glint in the firelight. Logan was familiar with dangerous animals such as this, no rhyme or reason, just pain.

"I'm looking, but I can't say I see anything I like."

It leaves his lips before he can bring forth the gun to the forefront of his mind. He had never been wise.

The man laughs. It fills every space, a mad type of sound, like skittering spiders across your skin.

"You're funny, you know that." he gestures with his gun, smiling, showing all his teeth. "So who do we have here, huh?" Casually he shoves the gun into his belt, patting one pocket then the next he pulls out familiar cards, singed slightly at the edges. Logan wished his gun would go off.

"Logan Echoll's," he draws out each syllable, flipping the plastic around so it faces Logan, as if he had not seen his face before. "Son of…" with this he flipped over the passport book, bringing it closer to his eyes. "Aaron Echolls? The Aaron Echolls?" he looks at Logan now, his grin wider. "Wohoah we have Hollywood royalty! HOLLYWOOD ROYALTY!" He lifts his arms as if to embrace the sky. "You know I fucking love your Daddy's movies. FUCKING LOVE THEM! Do you think, if I asked him nicely, he'd come here?" He squats now, his face close to Logan's, just the bars separating them, the look in his eyes is quieter now, less like a storm and more like a child's excitement at the prospect.

"I think you can go-." it's an unwise suggestion. But he had never-you know the rest…

"Big man huh?" his voice is quiet, a whisper strained to be heard above the background noises of men's talk and laughter a little further away. His eyes don't leave Logan's, his hand calmly removes the gun from his belt, it hangs loosely from his wrist, emphasising his words. "I bet you felt like a real fucking King flying up there, high above the world. I've never been sky diving, but I hear it's nice-… Are you still having a good time Logan? I know my boys hit you a bit hard, but do your remember what we did to your little friend, now that was a good time huh?"

_Talking. Laughing. Suddenly blood spatter. A neat round hole. Body slumps, head falls onto the table. It wasn't neat from the other side._

Bile rises in his throat.

"How about I write to your Daddy, and send him a little present? A fingernail? Hell why not a whole finger?" He's tapping the bars now with the gun, smiling softly. "That should convince him, don't you think? YOU KNOW, IT'S RUDE NOT TO ANSWER PEOPLE'S QUESTIONS LOGAN!"

He remains silent, but she doesn't.

"How about you take his advice!"

The predatory eyes turn to her and Logan feels his heart rise up and choke him. She never could just stay quiet.

"Ohoo and who is this?" He lays the gun tauntingly on the ground, just outside the bars as he reaches into his pocket and pulls out another piece of useless white plastic. "Veronica Mars!" he reads.

Logan glances at her, she doesn't correct him so neither does he.

"You know, Veronica, I don't remember hearing about your famous Daddy?" he rises now, looking down at them-at her. Lilly meets his gaze with defiance, but underneath Logan can tell her heart is in her throat, his is choking him. "Now if I were you I wouldn't be running that pretty mouth of yours off, because I might decide you don't need a tongue to-"

"Vaas what the hell are you doing!?" a man's voice calls, the heavy timber pulling the back from their heightened states. The man-Vaas-turns to glance outside of the fire torches light, there's a figure near one of the shed like structures, his hands up. "Stop playing with the merchandise and come here!"

He hesitates, glances back at them, tension in his muscles. Then suddenly the tension leaves him, he smiles, a large pleasant grin.

"I like you, both of you," he sounds sincere. "How about we finish this conversation later. Don't go anywhere now," he bent and picked up his gun, turning he sauntered away from the cage and the cold glow of the smoking torches, his whistle drifting back to them on the slight island breeze.

When he's gone Logan realises there's no one guarding them, illustrating their impotence. They were tied up, caged like animals and in the middle of some type of camp where they could hear the sounds of men, laughing, swearing, fighting. No one needed to guard them because they had no way of leaving.

There's silence for a moment as they both catch there breath. He closes his eyes, wills his heart to resume it's regular beat and then snaps them open.

"What the hell was that Lilly?" his voice cracks, the anger in it revealing more fear.

"I could ask you the same thing," she answers through gritted teeth, she's struggling with the ropes, something glinting in her hand. Confident now they were alone, falling into familiar patterns. "God, he just wouldn't shut up would he." She's taken on that tone, the one which projected her façade to the world, the one which bled with her real self until you couldn't separate Lilly from the show.

"What are you doing?" he ignores her blasé words, concentrating instead on the thing in her hand.

"Getting. Us. Out. Of. Here," each word is punctuated with another struggle of her hands. And eventually the rope broke and she was free. She rubbed her raw wrists, hissing as the feeling returned to them.

"How?"

She holds up a pocket knife, it has a lily engraved on the hilt. "It would have been faster if he hadn't decided to monologue."

"Where did y-" he began to ask.

"Just-we have to go," she's whispering now, heard a noise that he didn't. She's quickly leaning over him, sawing at the ropes, he stays still, not that he had much choice. It takes more than a few minutes and each one that ticks past seems to travel slower than the one before. Eventually the tension loosens and breaks, he hisses, his arms pinprick, numbness turning to pain as he rapidly rubs them. She's already moved onto the next thing, crouched she unhooks the cage door, she slowly but surely swings it open. It doesn't make a sound, thank God it's wood. He quickly follows her as fast as his throbbing head will allow, she's already stepped out.

"What about the others?" he hisses, tugging on her arm before she can move further, his eyes furtively checking their surroundings. There near some type of shed like structure, a rusted metal fencing containing the area, keeping the unwanted out and the unwilling in.

"I heard them talking, they've been taken somewhere else. Which is why we have to get out now!" her hiss is insistent, he feels the tension in her muscles, sees the slight quiver of her lips. Her teeth are chattering, through sheer force she is keeping them quiet. Her hands are white from gripping the knife, which she still holds as if it would protect her from a gun. She's afraid, just like him. But somehow she still manages inflection in her voice, it's how she kept herself together. It's how he kept from falling apart. He gives her one sharp nod-understanding, recognising the survivor in her.

"We should head over there," he points towards some trucks a few meters away. They had to drive out somewhere. They somehow shuffle their way there, narrowly missing being spotted by a pissing guard, keeping to the periphery of the torches which seem to be situated at sporadic intervals.

They stop dead behind an upturned horse trough when they hear the one they called Vaas' voice. He's speaking in another language with a voice they don't recognise, laughing. Logan steels himself and peeks over. Vaas is standing in the open light near the trucks talking to a man dressed in a red top and black army pants. They're sharing a cigarette together. There's a large opening in the metal fencing, ungated, the wild jungle just visible in the periphery of the camps light. Lilly raises her own head, they share a look, frozen, unsure. Finally, at the sound of Vaas sporadic laugh, he pulls her back down to lie behind the trough, in the safety of the dark.

"That's the way out," she whispers, her lips almost pressed to his ear, barely moving.

He nods. Doesn't know what else.

"We need to go the other way." She make the decision for them. "It's darker on that side, easier not to be spotted."

"Okay Xena," his throat unfreezes enough for the hoarse joke, what else was he supposed to do at a time like this? She actually grins, and it's wild and he thinks he really does love her, despite all her faults, because even in a moment like this she could revel.

But then the smile is gone, and his own is wiped out as they hear the sound of dogs, barking and the sound of shouting voices in a foreign tongue back the way they had come. They may not understand what was being said, but they understood the tone.

"They know," his heart is doing its best to escape his chest before someone could shoot it. His head feels like it's going to explode. His own fear is mirrored in her wide eyes, her pale skin. They hear running boots, gun shots. It's all distant, tinny to his ears.

"Fuck it! We need to go now!" she yells at him, grabbing him by the arm, tugging and pulling. "Run Logan. WE NEED TO RUN!" He finally finds his legs under him and their launching over the trough, running towards the cars where a second ago the psychopath who had threatened to cut out her tongue had been. He's not there, thankfully and he thinks for once he might actually be lucky.

The thought flitters through his mind that perhaps they should jump into one of the trucks, but he dismisses it quickly as they pass them. It would waste precious seconds they didn't have. They can hear the men and dogs coming now, their eyes are trained on the jungle before them. If they could just reach that tree cover it spelled safety, from man at least.

They pass the fence, a few steps from the jungle and he spares a glance back to see how close their pursuers were. He sees the glint, the curling triumphant smile, dark eyes trained slightly to the right, at-

"Lilly," the desperate scream tears from him and he launches, both of their momentums bringing them to the ground hard, rolling, their limbs tangled. He quickly extricates himself, glancing down at her-she hasn't gotten up.

"Nononononono." Someone's repeating that word, over and over. He's not sure who but it's a dull buzzing in his ears.

He sees her, red flowing from her neck, her breath is hitching, her blue eyes trained up at the stars.

He acts on instinct, his hands going to put pressure on the wound, as if he can force the blood back inside of her. It keeps on flowing, between his fingers.

She gasps. Once. Twice. She stops. The blood still flows.

"Lilly! Come on Lilly don't-Lilly," he's choking himself, it feels like he can't catch his breath, he's drowning in those clear blue eyes which have no mercy for him. He keeps his hands pressed, trying to stop what has already passed.

"Woops, did I kill your girlfriend?" black boots rest on his bloody fingers, he tears his hands away grips the knife from her fingers, screams and lunges. He stumbles and falls, nowhere close, from the ground he looks back up at that smirking face, panting as if he had crossed a distance of miles.

"Now that's not very nice," his voice is quiet, like a snakes warning before it strikes. He squats down near her, strokes a piece of hair from her face.

"Don't touch her!" the scream leaves his throat raw, he's risen again, the knife in front of him. He hears guns cock. Vaas raises his hand, forcing them to pause. He doesn't rise, there is no threat here against him. Instead he smirks.

"I'm cut up about it too you know. It fucking hurts me right here," he punctuated this by hitting his chest with his fist. "I thought we had really bonded. And then you go and leave me. THAT IS NOT FUCKING NICE!"

He rises now, infuriated, spit flying, his gun pointed at Logan. Logan waits for it, the inevitable. Vaas eyes are locked with his and slowly, he lowers his gun slightly.

"You know what, unlike you I am nice. So I'm going to give you a chance. One chance!" he held up his finger, to accentuate the point. "I'll count to three and you start running. Lets see how far those Nike's of yours can take you in the jungle white boy." The men surrounding them laugh appreciatively, there's been blood now there will be sport. Logan merely glances down at her, he can't look away. It's a morbid parody of sleeping beauty, just lying there in front of him.

"One,"Vaas raises his gun to point at Logan's chest, all he can see is her sightless eyes.

"Two," he hears the cock, forces his eyes to close, feels his breath hitch.

"RUN MOTHERFUCKER!"

_Run Logan! You need to RUN!_

Logan ducks and a bullet whizzes past his head, he lunges and falls into a mess of vines and plants. Stumbling, he rises. The knife is still in his hands. He blunders, it's a dark but there's enough moonlight to see at least what's in front of him. He can hear dogs barking as he starts pumping his legs, pushing through bush, narrowly skirting tree trunks, his breath rattling in his chest. He is heading away, that's all he knows. Away from guns and blood and endings.

He hears shouts, sounding behind him but also ahead, the sound of blundering cars. He instinctively changes direction, heading to the right, jumping over rotting logs, ducking under a hanging tangle of vines, slashing a thick spider web in his way just enough to let him through without being tangled.

Suddenly his feet are no longer underneath him. He's falling, sliding down a muddy embankment, uncontrolled. His hands reach out, grasps for anything he can feel, grabs a vine, it slips from his fingers, burning. Grabs a sapling, it breaks. It's slowed him enough though, when he finally falls over the edge he lands heavily at the bottom, but not fatally. He hears them, shouts, gun fire and odd cries of birds. He lay there, caked in mud, trying to find his breath which evaded him. Glances up, he sees the stars just peeking through a small gap in the overhead leaves. He thinks it would be nice, just to lie here.

_Run Logan!_

He didn't want to. What was the point?

_You need to run!_

He found his view tilting, with effort the ground below his feet once more, the sky above his head. His body ached, but he stumbled, not knowing which direction he was going, just hoping he would reach a destination. It takes the sound of more gun shots for his legs to start moving faster, blood pulsating through his veins.

_Run._

So he did, because it meant survival, and although his mind could not grasp the fragile concept, too filled with images of blonde girls in lace with red petals, his body knew what it meant to survive. He ran hard and fast, breath gasping through his lungs, treading deeper into the jungle, wild, pushing through.

He needed to jump another low log, his foot caught on a vine, he went sprawling onto the other side right into a heavy figure. They both tumble down the slight incline for a few seconds, landing a little away from each other. The wind has escaped his body, he can't seem to find his breathe as he rolls onto his side. The other man is faster to recover, rising to his feet. Logan recognises the red top and black army pants as they swim into his view.

"Hey white boy!" he is clearly recognised. The man looks down at him and fumbles at his belt for his gun, grinning, showing his rotten teeth and pink gums.

Logan launches at him, catching him by surprise. The man is larger than him, but Logan was not fazed by the few blows he managed to land, moving through the pain he struggled to grab the man's gun while preventing him from gaining the upper hand. His motives were soon lost in the struggle as it evolved into an attempt to stay alive. Suddenly the man is on top of him, Logan can almost smell his putrid breath at his grin. He knows, can see it in his mind's eye, how exactly this will end. Logan is attempting to drive the knife upwards, create a barrier between them, but the man is deflecting his attempts, pushing Logan's arm and the knife inexorably downwards.

_Grrrrrrrr._

The low deep sound distracts the man, whatever he sees causes his grip to loosen. It's infinitesimal, but it's enough. Logan's arm jerks up wildly, purposefully, shaking off what's left of his grip. The knife lodges in the man's throat and blood spills down, a red baptism. He just has a second, to glance at Logan, his eyes wide, and then he's falling back, choking on his own blood. The knife remains in Logan's tight grip. He lies there, panting, unable to assimilate-

_Grrrrrrrr._

He's on his feet, fear choking him as he sees beyond the fallen body multiple yellow eyes in the jungle, white teeth, hackles raised as one steps forward, nostrils wide with the smell of blood.

Logan isn't wise.

He runs.

He hears growling, snapping jaws, he launches himself into the jungle, screaming, not caring who could hear him as he feels the hot breath of something on his heels, hears the odd sound of pounding water, and then he's falling, tumbling into black madness, wind filling his ears with its ferocious cry before he hits something and hears no more.

~'~


End file.
